“He ordered the chief of his personal guard, a Minotaur, veteran of a thousand years of war, wielding TuaUafásach, the great axe forged of oighear, borne by the head of his line since his great great grandfathers and which has slain dragons, to cleave her from head to toe.
“She did not back one step, nor try to evade the blow, but stood fast. The indestructible axe fell on her, and it was the axe that shattered against her upraised arm! That blow, from an axe which has felled dragons, served only to mark her arm with a cut that became the annihilation of the Unseelie armies!
“She bid all the Guard to flee. They hesitated, and she encouraged their decision by sprinkling them with blood from the Cut, blood that burned like molten iron… more, even, because as they fled in terror, sparks leapt from their wounds and spread to others, injuring all who were touched by the terror of the queen! The only defense was to run away (the fire did not pursue those who fled far), or to stand without fear… and that is mere speculation, for no one tested it. The entire army was either burned to death or fled.
“She turned again to the Unseelie king. But now, she picked up the Shining Knife, and having touched magic through the Power given to her by His Majesty, she was at last of one heart with the King, and he, recovering, stood with her.
“The Unseelie king, his Guard either fleeing or dead where they stood, his army in full flight, admitted defeat and departed in haste.
“Hear this, remember this, and tell your children and their children, that this story might live for the ages!”
A roar of approval rolled over the hall, deafening and joyous. Applause and shouts of acclaim echoed for long minutes.
Claire sat in stunned silence, the cheers and shouting a distant cacophony behind the clamor of her thoughts.
Artistic license in victory stories was one thing, but this? This was absolutely ridiculous! Her eyebrows drew downward in a ferocious scowl. They all seemed to expect her to become queen! His queen!
In fact, everyone seemed to think she already was.
But what about her feelings? No one had even asked or consulted her! Shouldn’t she have a say? Shouldn’t he at least ask her?
She drew in a deep breath, feeling righteous anger welling up in her chest. She turned toward Tuathal, and he inclined his head to hear her words over the cheers still ringing in the air. And, with an uncomfortable rush of understanding, she realized that he had done virtually nothing else for the last eight years except ask her, over and over.
Claire met his eyes, the lightning flash of blue-gold-silver that set her blood racing and her heart aflame, then leaned toward him, the spider silk of his hair brushing her cheek as she whispered in his ear, “If you have any appetite left, I think I would like a bite of that feast now.”
His gaze, which had been cast across the celebrating guests, snapped back to her, his frost-colored eyebrows slightly raised in surprise. For an instant, there was joy in his eyes, and then he let out a soft breath and murmured, “My most humble apologies, Claire. I will make another attempt to reach your world now. I have regained…”
She put a finger to his lips. “Just tell me if I misunderstood you. I don’t care about the legends or the food. I just want to know if I imagined love where there was none.”
Tuathal’s hand tightened on hers, and his eyes flickered, blue as deep as the night sky shot through with lightning. “Love has been there from the beginning, since long before you bore the Shining Knife. I’ve loved you since you made a wish that showed me your heart.”
“Then…”
“Claire, let me try again. Please. I want you to have complete freedom to choose.” His voice roughened, and he swallowed. “Perhaps you would be able to visit your world again after you have eaten; the foinse cumhachta has never been borne by one of your world before, and perhaps that changes the rules a little. But I don’t want your hunger, however courageously you bear it, to cause you to make an impetuous decision.”
Tears filled Claire’s eyes, and she brushed at them.
Tuathal made an almost inaudible sound in his throat and traced a tear down her cheek, the touch light as a summer breeze. “Forgive me, Claire.”
She choked out a laugh and put her hand around his, threading her fingers through his lean ones. “I should be the one saying that, I think.” She leaned closer and pressed her lips to the sharp point of his jaw just below his ear, feeling the pulse in his throat, and then pulled back to rest her cheek against his. His wild hair silvered the light that reached her half-closed eyes.
She became suddenly aware that the entire room was silent; an instant later, a deafening roar of cheers and clapping rolled over her like thunder.
Tuathal and Claire left the banquet with a minimum of fuss. Tuathal murmured instructions to a servant, who nodded respectfully, his eyes flicking up to the king’s face and then away.
He offered Claire his arm and led her to his study. His steps were long and graceful, but he did not move quickly; Claire wasn’t sure whether it was out of consideration for her, or whether it was because he wasn’t yet as steady as he wanted her to believe.
She stood in front of the mirror at his request. Her reflection looked… well, pretty unrecognizable, if she were honest with herself. The cut on her arm had healed cleanly, though the scar was still bright pink. She was thinner, which seemed to make her look taller; or perhaps that was only the flattering cut of the dress. Her hair had nearly reached the length of a very short pixie cut, and she raised one hand to brush her fingers against the almost-hidden scar.
“Think of where you want to go,” he said. His voice sounded a little strange to her, rough with fatigue and emotion, and she glanced at him. He leaned against the wall, long and gaunt and graceful, his face bone-white.
“Are you sure you should do this?” Claire whispered.
“Quite sure. Are you ready?” He gave her a sharp-toothed smile, and if she hadn’t been looking so closely, she would not have seen the dark, hopeless look in his eyes. She sucked in a breath, searching for words to tell him that she would come back…
But for one instant, she imagined her parents’ brick patio, the fall leaves shifting in the breeze, a cup of coffee by her elbow, a book in hand.
She blinked. The leaves rustled above her, the coffee steamed, and the book dropped from her hand as she cried out.
Chapter 37
Claire stumbled inside, tears in her eyes.
It was still Friday afternoon. She had been gone from the human world for such a short time that no one knew she had vanished.
She expected disbelief and difficulty in getting anyone to accept that this was not just a dream, or perhaps a symptom of her brain injury, and made an effort to be as calm as possible in her explanation. To her surprise, it turned out that while her family was astonished, they believed her readily for several reasons. Her hair had grown out a little, evidently in only a couple of hours. Her brother vouched for the part of the dream that they had both experienced during her coma. There was the cut on her arm, which was now a tender pink scar. She had lost nine pounds, evidently also in two hours. She was still wearing an elaborate gown of a cloth that was not quite silk but some other fabric no one could identify.
It didn’t hurt that her mother had been on the patio and happened to be looking directly at the chair when she appeared in it.
Her father cooked steaks while she ate a bowl full of strawberries topped by whipped cream and explained the adventure as clearly as she could, though there were still many things she did not understand. She glossed over much of the danger and terror; her parents had been frightened enough by her car wreck and she didn’t want to frighten them more. She explained a little about the pendant, but between her modesty, her incomplete understanding of the foinse cumhachta, and her desire not to worry them, her explanation was less elucidating than she’d hoped. With a smile, she noted that, as a human, she could handle iron and steel, and that ability was quite an advantage in Faerie. In her own ears, her words sou
nded whimsical and perhaps a little melodramatic, and she smiled a little as she said, “He’s the king of the Seelie. Those are the good faerie creatures, I suppose you could say. And we’re engaged to be married.” The glorious weight of the words engaged to be married made her heart swell with pride.
“You want to marry him?” her mother asked again. “Are you sure?”
“If I can get back to him,” she whispered.
There were a thousand questions in her mind, but that one fact was clear. She had given him power over her, without realizing when or how or why.
She loved him.
Claire’s suitcase lay open on the bed as she chose a few essential articles of clothing and a favorite few books. Tuathal was a king and could probably provide everything she needed, but a few familiar items would be welcome. What else should she bring?
“Here. Take these.” Her father proffered a slightly dusty pair of steel mesh gloves.
“Where’d you get those?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.
“From the garage. They were for cleaning fish when we went on that camping trip.” He dug in his pocket. “These might be useful too.” He smiled and held out a handful of jacks. “Like mini caltrops, you know?”
Claire snorted.
“And I bought this.” He stepped into the hallway and reappeared with a BB gun and a five pound jug of BBs. “After what you said about the creatures you faced, I thought about buying you a gun, but you’ve never have any training. It would be as dangerous for you as anything else. Maybe even more… it might take a big gun to be effective against a minotaur. If gunpowder even works in Faerie. Then I thought about the iron. A BB gun would barely break your skin, but it shoots steel BBs. It uses a spring, so it should work no matter what. I got extra springs and parts for repairs.”
Her father watched her take the gun and heft it to her shoulder. “It’s not that hard. Just don’t shoot your eye out, kid.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes.
“Snack time!” Her mother’s voice floated up the stairs.
“I’m pretty full,” Claire groaned cheerfully.
Her father smiled. “Come on, Claire Bear. It means she loves you.”
“I know. But I’m full of steak.” She grinned. Her father’s steaks were legendary, and it had only been two hours since she’d stuffed herself with steak and potatoes, asparagus and fresh buttery rolls.
She sat at the kitchen table and her eyes widened at bowls of popcorn and a carton of ice cream.
“Gil, scoop it for us, would you?” Her mother handed her father an ice cream spade.
He took it obligingly and began scooping butter pecan ice cream into blue ceramic bowls.
“That’s beautiful.” Claire’s mother said.
“What, this?” Claire tugged at the pendant on her necklace. It felt different, and she pulled it off so she could see the design better.
The familiar awen design was there, with the three lines spreading at the bottom and almost converging near the top, with three dots above where the lines came together. The design was enclosed within a ring around the edge of the circular pendant.
Yet it was different; the pendant had been made of bronze, polished bright on the high parts of the designs and tarnished darker in the crevices. It had been heavy and solid, though not particularly large. Now the flat base appeared to be made of gold. The three dots sparkled so brilliantly they must have been diamonds, and pendant was nestled within layers of intricate gold filigree as if the awen itself were a precious jewel.
Ethan frowned. “Where did you get that?”
“I’ve had it for years. Tuathal gave it to me. But it was different then.”
Her brother’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward to study the pendant. “Yeah. But not really that different, was it?”
Claire looked for the truth, and it warmed her heart. “I suppose not.”
“May I see it?” Her mother leaned over the table.
Claire handed it to her mother, and the pendant was back on her neck, her mother’s hands empty.
“Well…” her mother said in surprise. “I suppose that would make abdicating your throne rather difficult.”
Ethan nodded thoughtfully. “It’s part of you, isn’t it? Didn’t you say that’s what the king said? It’s not really just a necklace; the necklace is only what people see, and reality is more complex. You might as well try to loan someone your personality.”
“Didn’t the king give it to you, though?” her father asked.
Claire said in a soft voice, “Yes. And he was quite mad without it.”
“So is it two now? Two pendants? Yours and his?” Ethan asked.
“No. I think it’s just the one. We both wear it, and it’s ours together.” Claire took a deep, shuddering breath. “I gave it back to him, but… I still had it. Maybe if I tried again now that I understand more, it would work. But… I think it would be like breaking the engagement, breaking our connection. I don’t want to!” Her voice shook. “I don’t know how to see him again.”
Their conversation over popcorn and ice cream was subdued.
Claire glanced up, noticing the empty dining room wall behind her mother. The framed pictures had been taken down and stacked neatly between sheets of newspaper in a cardboard box in the corner. “Why’d you take the pictures down?”
“Ah…” Her mother and father glanced at each other. “Don’t worry about it, honey.”
She tilted her head and studied their faces. Ethan looked down, his eyebrows drawn together, and muttered, “It won’t help things if you don’t tell her.”
Her father sighed. “Right then. We’re downsizing. We’re selling the house, and we’re moving to a townhouse over on Ridgeview Drive, just a few blocks away. Ethan won’t have to change schools or anything.”
“Why?” Claire breathed. “You love this house, Dad!”
Ethan said, “It’s okay, Claire. I don’t mind. I can still play on the soccer team and everything.”
“But why?”
Her father’s frown deepened, and he rubbed his hands down his jeans. “We didn’t want to worry you, Claire. It’s fine. We’re keeping the same phone numbers, and we were going to let you know once the sale was finalized and we’d moved in and everything. It’s all right.”
“But why, Dad?” Claire’s voice rose in worry. “Is your job all right? What’s wrong?”
Her mother chewed her lip and glanced at her father. Their gazes caught, and they seemed to debate for a moment silently. Then her father said, “Well, insurance didn’t cover all the medical bills. We owe quite a lot of money, actually. The hospital is taking payments, and with all the improvements we’ve made over the years, selling the house will make quite a dint in what we owe.” He smiled and put his hand over hers. “It’s fine, Claire. I know it’s a shock to hear it like this, but we just didn’t want to worry you.”
“It’s my fault,” she breathed. “If I hadn’t been driving like…”
“It was an accident!” her mother said firmly. “And we’re just glad you’re alive. These things happen, Claire, and yes, we hope to learn from them, but we’ll handle it together. All right? It will be fine.”
Ethan smiled brightly. “Besides, the new townhouse is pretty close to the park, so even though it doesn’t have a yard, there’s still plenty of space for kicking a ball around.”
Claire closed her eyes. This is all my fault, and they’re so… I wish I’d recognized how wonderful they are. Why did it take me wrecking a car to understand how kind my family is?
She swallowed, opening her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom and Dad and Ethan. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine, honey.” Her father put his hand over hers again. “It will be fine.”
Claire looked down at her lap and her eyes widened as she realized she was still wearing the dress from the royal banquet. I wonder… “Wait. Mom, look at these.” She stood and gestured at her clothes. The velvet overdress was studded with diamonds. “I’m sure these are real
diamonds. The king…” Her voice trailed away, and she looked at the aquarium in the corner. In a moment she had opened the cabinet door and was rummaging in the supplies beneath, rising a moment later with a handful of carbon pellets for the water filtration system for the aquarium.
“Don’t laugh at me if this doesn’t work. I’m not a fairy king,” she muttered. She closed the charcoal pellets within her fingers and willed them to change.
A moment later, she put a handful of cut diamonds on the table, her eyes wide. Always carry a piece of charcoal.
Ethan breathed, “Wow! That should cover the medical bills.”
After exclamations of disbelief and excitement and more explanations, Claire felt both drained and relieved. They finished their snacks and conversation petered out into a comfortable silence.
Finally Claire rose, her hand going unconsciously to the pendant on her neck. “I… I love you all.”
“But you’re going back?”
“I don’t know how to get back.” She swallowed. “But I have to try.”
Her mother and father exchanged glances.
“You got there through a mirror last time, right?” asked Ethan.
“Right.”
Suitcase in hand, she stood in front of her dresser looking into the mirror. I do look different, she realized. Her face was a little thinner, her eyes bright despite the lingering weariness. She looked almost regal. It’s probably just the dress, she thought, but she knew, deep inside, that it wasn’t entirely the dress after all.
“You look beautiful, darling,” her mother murmured.
They wrapped her in their arms, and she breathed the faint scent of her father’s aftershave, the fabric softener in her mother’s blouse, and the warmth of their bodies pressed close around her.
“I’ll be all right. And maybe I can come back.”
“We love you, sweetheart.”
And she pulled away. She knew that if she didn’t, she would burst into tears, because so much love could not be held inside without tears.
The Lord of Dreams Page 24
